


Deflowered

by ameerkatofficial



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Cuckolding, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Incest, Infidelity, Inspired by Kuroshitsuji, Kuroshitsuji AU, Loss of Trust, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Non-Consensual, Porn With Plot, Rape, Smut, Teenagers, Threesome - F/M/M, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6921502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameerkatofficial/pseuds/ameerkatofficial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I was dared to write a threesome for a terrible, awful crack ship my friend and I came up with and well...here it is! Took a night to write, got a lot angstier than planned...I am ashamed of myself to be honest...but enjoy! An AU of William T. Spears as a teenager and a human, who has an older brother named Oliver E. Spears (OC), who is engaged to the lovely Lady Rachel Phantomhive. Enjoy this terrible midnight rendezvous between them, and try not to judge me too much ahhhhhhhh!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Night of the Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Good luck  
> ~author

“Is this really a good idea?” asked the younger, sitting at the edge of his bed, a soft pout upon him, but his grey eyes had the watery look of worry.

“Shut up,” the older hissed, spraying the other in the face with cologne, “It’s a learning opportunity for my _darling baby brother…_ ”

William glared up at his brother, who paced feverishly about the bedroom, awaiting the clock to strike midnight, frustration building in each step. The clock read _11:58_.

The younger fell back onto the bed with a soft flutter of his lips, staring up at the gentle rose shade of the ceiling, the shade deeper by the soft candlelight, as his stomach twisted and turned within him like some writhing snake.

_11:59_

He flipped over on his stomach then to watch Oliver, continuing on across the room like a clock’s pendulum, silently wondering what the hell this woman had seen in him. Perhaps it was his lips, pretty and pink like Mother’s, always turned up in a gentle smirk at the girls, which they’d all swoon for. Or his hair, that perfect shade of dark, chestnut brown, lovely and coiffed, while William’s was straight and nearly pitch black.

_12:01_

“Are you sure she’s coming?”

“Shut your arse!”

“And what’ll that help if my arse is shut?”

And how lovely he looked with his handsome jaw clenched, his perfect complexion slowly becoming splotchy and red, as if he had gained a dreadful rash on his cheeks.

“Hello, I’m here!” sang a voice like a sweet nightingale’s, a soft knock pawing against the mahogany wood, “It’s me, Rachel.”

Oliver’s dark eyes became slits as he glared at the door, though his complexion evened once again, as he came to his young brother to shove his head into the bed.

“ _Coming!_ ”

The door opened to an ethereal vision, pale as porcelain with softly rosed cheek, her hair seeming to be strands of spun gold, her gaze looking like shards of broken sky that The Lord had used to create her eyes, and that smile—‘twas two petals pink that formed her lips.

“Hello, Ollie!” she gave a soft cheer as she pecked upon his pretty lips with hers, her thin nightgown swishing about her slender form, teasing his vision with sweet secrets, though William now averted his gaze to the rug.

“Hello, Rachel, darling. Come, come! Sit upon the bed with little Willy and me,” he took her hand and led her as if into a dance, a giggle and a twirl between them, those two perfect, youthful lovers like a painting, even William could swoon at them.

But she had caught his eye, and for a moment, her bliss had wavered to…curiosity?

She sat before him, her nightdress flying up to expose her nearly to the knees, and now William thought he’d surely faint at the sight of those soft, pale limbs.

“Nice to meet you, William,” she chirped, bringing his gaze up to meet hers in a moment of breathless delight, “I don’t believe we’ve spoken much before now, but you’re a _very_ handsome boy.”

William’s lips parted to respond, but only a soft sound like a mewl had left before he closed his lips, biting them back as he occupied himself with staring at the lacey hem of her nightgown.

“Don’t talk to him too much, darling,” Oliver rolled his eyes, crashing onto the bed beside them, “You might break him…”

His coiffed head laid in her lap as he grinned up at her chest, but she paid no attention to him, save for her svelte hand that combed through his hair, “It’s alright if you’re shy. My little sister is shy too…maybe you’d like her…” her lashes fluttered gently, like a fairy’s wing, and the younger brother nearly smiled at her, even as his heart had begun to race.

“Oh, he won’t be shy for long, Rachel dear!” the elder clicked his tongue, “No, he’s going to be our _plaything_ for the night—” he reached out to suddenly grab his brother by the shirt-collar, “—aren’t you, _Willy?”_

He rose then, however slowly, so that the two of them sat up face to face, his hot breath beating down upon poor William’s face, causing the thin hairs on his cheeks to bristle, but he only grew closer with those menacing, dark eyes…

…just like Father’s…

But Oliver didn’t stop, and William felt his stomach begin to tight further, tighten into knots until he felt it, the sudden rush of warmth that shot into his spine, running down to his toes to the top of his head.

“ _Mmmh—!_ ”

But Oliver didn’t pull away as he usually did, spitting out how it was a “joke”, for William to stop being such a “girl”. No, this was real as William was, his hands that gripped to the younger’s chin, those pink and pretty lips that pressed into his as they slowly fell backward onto the bed. William protested with a muffled cry, but soon succumbed out of fear as he felt those hands reach beneath his nightshirt and grasp hold of him, a jolt of heat hitting his stomach.

In a frantic motion, William pulled his own head down, slamming it into the mattress with a hushed cry of “Oliver, please—!”

“Stiff as a rod! Well would you look at that, my love? My brother’s queer.”

William held back tears at his brother’s triumphant grin, his grey eyes shining with them, chin wrinkling as his hands struggled to pull down his nightshirt, only to have it suddenly pulled away by the other.

“Have to admit, you’re a rather decent size,” Oliver climbed off the other, pulling up the nightshirt more fully, “What would you say, Rachel?”

“A bit bigger than _you_ , dear, don’t you think?”

Oliver regained that splotchy look, his dark eyes aflame, and surely they could have set poor William aflame as well with that look, to which William cowered further into the mattress.

_Slap!_

“ _Ah!”_

“Shut your arse…”

This was precisely where the boy had been struck, though not a tear left him, and instead came a tingling of his cheeks, surely crimson by now as Oliver left him, leaving him in full view of his young betrothed.

“Make use of your lips, darling,” the eldest instructed his lover, “and de-queer him for me?”

William laid back, staring up at the rose shade of the ceiling, deeper a shade now by candlelight, though surely it couldn’t have been deeper than the shade of his face, his terribly countenance that his brother had marred with his pretty, pink lips.

“Hello…”

His heavy read rose to see that glorious sight, the golden-haired fairy whose porcelain complexion was now changed over to a faint peach as she smiled down at him with petal-lips, and he couldn’t help but have the urge to reach up and take them into his own.

“Hello,” he replied in the same whisper, his breath heavy and failing, his heart sure to burst. And perhaps it did when he saw her smile, heard that bell of a giggle grace his ears.

“Your brother said to _de-queer_ you, so I’ll do just that, alright— _oh!_ ” the smile suddenly dropped from her face, and he noticed then that his brother had disappeared just behind her now, the hem of her gown climbing.

“Rachel…?”

Her head dipped down before she could reply, and he suddenly felt why. He felt those lips, those soft lips like petals upon him, a wet, pink tongue, and his tears had at last sprung from his damned eyes as he laid his head back down and became completely still, “ _Oh…_ ”

They continued like this for a while, reality beginning to escape William, slip away between his fingers like sand as his breath built speed but lost depth, as the room seemed to swirl and concave around him, and all he heard was her gentle, breathy moans and his deeper, growling voice just behind, and perhaps he himself followed, though his own voice sounded foreign to his ears, even if he felt his own throat create it.

“He hasn’t fainted, has he?”

“No…his eyes are still open…perhaps he’s dead?”

“ _Dead?!_ He better not be dead! Mum will kill me!”

William suddenly sat up to meet her smile, to meet his great sigh of relief, only to have his shirt-collar yanked at as he was forced forward.

“You know how to please a woman, Will?”

William didn’t respond, only his face growing three shades paler as his eyes widened, before he was tossed aside, where he now regained his air.

“You’re going to learn now. _Get over here!”_

He timidly approached to find a completely nude and ruddy Rachel Phantomhive lying across the bed, her chest rising and falling softly, shifting her breasts like gently breathing white hills.

“H-How…”

“Just get on her.”

He obeyed without another word, albeit timidly as he held her clouded gaze, asking a silent permission which was granted with a twitch of her lip. He straddled her stomach then, though shifting the weight to his knees to not hurt her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her unblemished porcelain skin, wishing to touch her all over with his hands, though he couldn’t bring himself to try, to even fantasize…

“Raise your arse up, Will, and suck on her breasts,” the gruff voice instructed.

“Her _breasts_?!”

“Like a babe, yes. Just shut up and do it already!”

He looked back up to meet her gaze, warm and melting, as if the sky had begun to rain, though there was no sorrow in her eyes. Instead there was a twinkle through them, like a rainbow through the mist, and a soft huff left her as she shifted beneath him, her stomach hitting his heated flesh.

“ _Will!_ ”

“Alright, you prat!”

He knelt down and immediately buried his face between her breasts, kissing tenderly at the skin, gentle pecks at first, though they became greedy at her mewling and he found himself suckling upon her delicate skin.

But he was very aware of another warmth just behind him, the rhythmic, undulating movement, the soft, damp beat that kept in time with the girl’s sharp gasps, followed by a low, guttural groan of that smooth, dark voice. What a happy pair these two made…

William also became aware now of a creeping presence drawing ever closer to him, until he, too, drew in a sudden breath, as he felt a moistness invade him, just in his rear. But he made no complaint of it, instead suckled harder upon her breasts as his own rear was guzzled down so ravenously.

“ _Ah,_ _William…_ ” ‘twas a sensuous, private word, a wisp of a wind that could only be gathered by young William’s ears. But it formed a lump in his throat that he swallowed down along with the sweat that collected upon her skin, along with his own spit that had accumulated, but he was so careful to not let teeth graze her to damage that beautiful skin, only wishing to inhale her, her lovely scent forever into his mind, like lilies.

But without warning came a sudden impalement, like a bullet driven into him. He couldn’t help but give a scream into the room, but couldn’t help but feel his spine arch, his cries turn into moans as he felt something unlike he ever had before, the form of two fingers pressed into him that drew from him such heat, such lewd noises that he could hardly contain, making him drool openly as he pushed himself back onto those thick fingers, his head thrown back in the height of absolute pleasure—

“ _Oliver!”_

Both William and the girl seemed to cry out that cursed name almost simultaneously, and he felt his heat dripping, or running a river down upon her, trickling in white which he saw before his eyes, a flash of white, perhaps Heaven’s dear light, come to save him from this blessed Hell.

“Damn…already, Willy?”

He looked down and found dear Rachel too overcome with bliss to speak, her eyes dazed and unfocused as high-pitched gasps flew from her heaving chest. Could she see him, see William upon her?

But his question couldn’t be answered, for he was pulled away once again.

“Lick it out of her, you’re next,” ordered that deep voice, growing ever more crude by the moment as he gave another harsh strike to William’s bottom, nearly sending him toppling forward.

The younger soon regained himself, shifting downward to her own dripping heat, the sight, the smell hypnotising to him, seeming nearly holy as he tentatively peaked out his tongue.

The initial taste was bitter and crude, stinging his mouth, but he didn’t stop himself, his tongue delving in deeper, deeper still and he felt at last as if he were alone, alone with a beautiful woman named Rachel, whom he would happily make love to in the gentlest way she deserved. He thought of this as he ingested his own kin from within his kin’s bride, his lips upon her as a seal as he consumed her, peals of shrieks like church bells pouring from her divine lips.

“William… _please_ …” she begged at long last, “…just put it in…”

And he did so without protest, without question or delay, sinking into her creamy flesh, grasping her thighs as he pushed in, pushed in again, not wishing this moment to end.

But when he looked up to wonder at why her breaths had ceased, the sight sank his heart, the sight of his handsome brother kissing and groping at her with his thick hands, at her bruised breasts, the very touch causing her to tremble as she donned an expression of complete serenity, her lover embracing her lips, his brother embracing her hips.

His thrusts became angry then, even maddened as he held back a sob, until his spine arched and he gave a great shout, animalistic in nature, surely permeating the papered walls.

And though he was filled with bliss, a deep shame was instilled into him as he caught the sight of his brother smiling wickedly at him.

“There’s a fine lad,” he chuckled darkly, cupping Rachel’s breast like a pear, “Now that you’ve had your fun, see what you’ve done here! You’ve _hurt_ her, Will!”

Within his hand was the evidence, he chest bruised terribly, purple blooms staining the white porcelain. But even then along her neck were the same marks that were certainly not of Will’s craft. He eyed them suspiciously before making the mistake of opening his mouth.

“Haven’t you done the same to her neck, Oliver—”

“ _That’s not the point!_ ” the brunette roared, though suddenly a softer look came about him as he looked upon his sweetheart, a gentle pout to his pretty, pink lips.

“What do you think we should do? Punish him for what he did to you?”

Sweat beaded William’s brow as he looked to the girl in desperation, hoping that she’d somehow end the madness, perhaps run away with William instead, perhaps to Switzerland, to the mountains where they could live happily for eternity.

But William instead watched in horror as the girl offered him a coy smile and a slow, deliberate nod.

“That’s what I thought…” the wicked boy grinned as he shifted over to his younger brother, a gentle hand grasping the other’s soft cheek, pulling the limp, nearly lifeless lad in for another long kiss.

“Lie down, Will…” he instructed once again, however sweetly this time, watching him as the boy laid down into the sheets, about to retch out his stomach. But he obeyed.

“Rachel, my love,” Oliver sang to his future bride, “You can clean yourself out on him if you’d like.”

“I’d be delighted!”

Before William could think upon what that meant, he suddenly felt that impaling force drive into him once more, only this time greater, heftier than before. It drove into him gradually, but every inch was felt just the same, each causing a tremble to come over his already sensitive skin, jolting his body awake, alive, until he felt the hilt against his hip, the full force of it, was it in his stomach by now? He hadn’t a clue! Only that he was suddenly drooling, suddenly moaning and writhing which each thrust, just as Rachel had. What an unholy union this was! And yet how wonderful it felt, to be full, to be pushed in, to have his own soul depart from him so well, leaking from his lips.

He hardly noticed the sudden change from light to dark, only noticed the change in the air, suddenly thick, suddenly creamy, until the bitter taste made him realise that Rachel had joined in on this brotherly bliss. He licked aggressively, though his heart felt empty. And still he drooled into her, moaning deep inside of her whilst she let them pour out from past her lips.

And then there was a rush, but it all came so fast. It was the rush of her, her sweet taste pouring into his mouth, which he consumed wholly. There was a rush of Oliver filling him with that dripping heat, that cream that burned within him, leaking out as that fullness was pulled out of him as well. But he felt at once drowned and on fire, his body coming to a boil, his limbs uncontrollable. He was screaming.

“Surely he’s dead now,” chirped one sweet voice, “His eyes are empty.”

“But he’s breathing,” growled another, “Maybe he just couldn’t handle my girth.”

William lay there like that for a long time, and surely the maid would face the truest Hell when she came to change the sheets in the morning.


	2. Morning Blooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another addition to the sin and a guilty admission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my dearest lover, Rachel. I regret everything.

It was a sickening feeling in his stomach, one that shot up bile to his throat. But how more sickening was the feeling of the other’s flat chest against his desperate palms, of his heat, his smell, that gentle musk and cologne, and how it made him salivate and seethe as William tried to pull away and still was drawn in closer by harsh lips in dark corridors, breathless and grasping and gasping as he wrinkled the older man’s shirt in his fingertips before consciousness suddenly struck him in the back of the head.

“Get away!” he shoved the other off.

The man sneered, “Got stiff quicker this time. That’s a record, my lad.”

But he was right, even as William stood with his chest out; he was ruddy and panting, plain as daylight.

Oliver had kissed him before—a game, he had said. Each time had left an acrid taste in his mouth, but only so brief were they. But after that night, that awful night…acidity remained, and yet something spun his head, caused his eyes to roll back and sigh, as if out of possession by The Devil himself, for what else could be the cause?

But morning passed on, bleak and grey. Now as he laid out himself in the sun room in the golden afternoon, a cello’s bow balanced upon his chest, he felt fluttering feeling, a fairy’s wing, somehow trapped in his stomach, and how he wondered at the sensation of being filled to the brim with air, the sensation of being primed to drift off into the blue sky, as he calmly stroked each fine horsehair, imagining them blonde, yes blonde, golden like the sun still quite low in the sky, shyly peaking out from behind the trees.

“Hello…”

The boy suddenly bolted upright, a look of succumbing to the spirits upon him as he turned pale white, his grey eyes wide, wringing a peal of laughter from the uninvited guest of his ponderings.

“Oh, don’t be afraid of me! I don’t bite, _much…”_

And still he regarded her warily, though he did relax at his shoulders, though he held to the bow with all his might, the wood sure to snap under his grip as he quietly gazed upon her ivory form, seemingly pristine now, despite how pink she was beneath the rose coloured ceiling, how violet she had become at his hand…

“I-I…I hope you’re not especially feral today, Lady Durless…”

Brief confusion passed over her face, but like the bleak morning, it passed on and bright eyes soon succeeded, another tinkling laugh and a shake of her head.

“I hope for your sake as well, dear!” she cheered as she sat herself beside him, her skirts reaching the edge of his stocking-ed feet. William simply stared at her, as if a spirit had suddenly appeared before him, as he gently stroked each string upon his bow, long fingers running along each horsehair, imagining them blonde…

“Why are you here?”

“Why am I not?”

He furrowed his brows the slightest bit, the stroking intensifying as he let off a short sigh.

“Are you playing games with me?”

But she did not reply, responding by shifting herself closer, closer until he could feel her heat against his toes, where the young Countess of Durless sat and smiled and stared longer with those crisp afternoon blue eyes.

“Play for me.”

“Play what?”

“ _Cello!_ ”

His stroking stopped, and he considered for a moment in his poisoned mind…surely the thought was illogical! Pure fancy and foolishness—but…

“Marry me, then,” he muttered, his eyes downcast as he prodded his toes with the end of his bow.

“Alright.”

William’s gaze suddenly lifted, a slim brow risen, though he managed a short nod as he placed his feet on the tiled floor and lifted his cello in hand, raising his bow in the air.

“A request?”

“ _Chopin_.”

The boy pressed his lips flush together, though he nodded once more as his unruly, straight black hair fell over his eyes, giving a slight shrug before he laid bow to string.

It was a gentle melody, romantic and yet richer than what the genre was given credit for. The boy lacked speed, was not a master of the instrument, but the feeling was clear in the gentle vibrato, and at times it seemed the instrument was the master of him instead, swaying him with the floating notes in the air, pulling him, stealing him away, fingers moving faster along the length of smooth spruce wood, until he was left exhausted, but returned to his own self by the end, where he glared at the girl with his quiet, grey eyes, slowly laying down his cello.

“Satisfied?”

Her pink lips smiled back at him, her chipper voice resonant in the sunroom.

“Quite.”

By the morning dew, William often imagined himself at a moor, marshy and wet by the coast in the fog, where he’d often wander when his family vacationed in such an environment. He’d imagine there were wolf-men lurking about, hunting, and it was up to him to hunt for them with his wooden sword and his crew of loyal ghosts.

This time of his life was over now, and instead he only imagined the marshland engulfing him whole, holding him there in slumber for eternity, preferably, as he laid beneath a tree, enveloped by the wet, green grass, his fingertips brushing over his lips as he sat and wondered at how well his heart could beat.

“ _Hello…_ ”

Was it a sigh through the springtime grass? A whisper through the trees? William bolted upright to catch the sight of a nymph roaming about the grounds, her hair adorned in flowers as it hung golden and straight down to her waist whilst she roamed about in a pure white shift, translucent by the morning glow so that it revealed to his gaze a shadowy silhouette of her figure.

“Rachel…” he breathed in reply, realising suddenly to keep his gaze upon hers rather than elsewhere, and so his grey eyes stubbornly met her blue as he sat in cold silence before her.

But she paid his silence no mind, settling in the grass before him with a languid posture, her shift freely hanging off of one shoulder as a stray curl hung past her cheek.

After some time of silence, she suddenly begged the question “What?” as a note of annoyance quietly disrupted her peacefully pest-like expression, “Are you not going to greet your betrothed?”

 _“Betrothed?”_ the boy sputtered softly, taking a moment to cough the word out of his lungs, “Y-Y-You…are not—”

“—but of course I am. Do you not remember yesterday, silly Willy?”

He flushed at the nickname, teeth gripping the inner part of his cheek, brows furrowing, though after a moment he shook his head and took to fiddling with a blade of grass beside him.

“I believe you are actually betrothed to my brother…”

“And don’t you wish _you_ were as well?”

William suddenly looked up, his eyes wide, horrified at the girl, as the blade between his fingers snapped damply.

“I-I-I do not…”

“Please, Will, I saw the expression on your face that night…your body betrays you, dear…”

The boy gained a look of sickliness, pale and winded as his lashes fluttered, as bile reached his throat once again. His lips parted to respond, but he could not find the breath for words—was he caught then? His perverse feelings towards men, towards his _brother_ —was he at last caught by the eyes of The Lord?

“You know, I had kissed my sister as well…”

He blinked, grey eyes wide as his parted lips rounded to a look of surprise, to ask questions, to ask so many questions that could not possibly be phrased with any word in any language.

“I liked it, and I believe she did just as well—though perhaps it was just the feeling of it being… _forbidden_ …” The countess began to move closer towards William, her gentle smile at ease as her voice grew all the time more soft against the hush of the morning. “Yes…the wonderful _sin_ of it all…was this what had drove me towards the act? How _dirty_ it is?”

But the boy did not respond, if only with a quick glance down as her hand touched upon his chest, a sudden anxiety arising that she may feel his rapid heartbeat against her palm.

“Does he touch you like _this_ , Will? Does he…ease onto you, until you don’t even realise that you’ve touched his handsome lips? That he has slipped his hand down the front of your trousers?”

A sharp breath emerged as he backed into the trunk of the tree, flushing, panting, panicking, as she came closer, closer still, laid her hand upon his trousers, “S-Stop talking about this, Rachel!” he wheezed

_“Marry me, then.”_

So it has come to throwing his foolish outburst back at him, then? So it has come to this groping, this taunting, this serpent with flowering face enchanting him further into flame?

How far gone was he?

“But…you will marry my brother?” his trembling lips inquired, just a hair away from hers as he held back a sob.

“I will marry you and brother both.”

“… _Alright._ ”

The words were exchanged in hush against the leaves of the trees and the soft grass, against the warmth of lips that soon touched and tasted the morning dew off the other, again, _again_ , until he laid her and tilled her, sowed within her upon the springtime grass and the morning dew, her shift gathered at her waist, trapping his knees whilst her slender, pale legs captured his waist, bare feet edging the small of his back.

Was it madness that caused him to bruise her neck and shoulder again? Was it madness that shuddered his breath as she cried out to the breeze between the leaves on the trees and the glades of grass?

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be quite honest I don't know how long I'll keep this going. Maybe I'll stop now. Maybe I'll stop when I die. Maybe I'll die now. Who knows!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.


End file.
